


Ablaze

by Downright_Certifiable



Series: Redemption [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bisexual Male Character, Blood, Crossover, Crossover Pairings, Draco Malfoy Feels, Draco Malfoy has a heart, Draco has kids, Draco is a BAMF, Draco is a lab geek, Draco knows more about Muggle culture than anyone guessed, F/F, F/M, Good Draco Malfoy, Gore, Harry... isn't so much, Interrogation, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki is a BAMF, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Male Slash, Manipulation and lies, Multi, Oblivious Thor, Post - Half-Blood Prince, Pre-Thor (2011), Romance, Sirius Black is alive, Slash, Slow Burn, So many deaths, Suspicions, Takes place of Iron Man, Thor Is Not Stupid, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony is a BAMF, Torture, Torture as interrogation, Violence, but no character bashing, torture aftermath
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-09-02
Updated: 2014-09-02
Packaged: 2018-02-15 20:21:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2242236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Downright_Certifiable/pseuds/Downright_Certifiable
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Marvel Cinematic Universe/Harry Potter Crossover.</p><p>The war with Voldemort takes years longer than anyone anticipated, taking the lives of four hundred thousand people, Muggle and magical beings alike. Tony Stark is captured by Death Eaters and taken to their headquarters to make weapons that blend magic and technology so Voldemort can reign over other countries. It’s there he meets Draco Malfoy, an Inner Circle member whose wife, a woman named Astoria, and father were killed by Voldemort. The two plot an escape, an end to the war, and a future for themselves that involves something other than destruction. Meanwhile, Commander Loki watches the two and bides his time…</p><p>Takes place of Iron Man 1, Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Pre-Thor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ablaze

Chapter Start:  
Tony’s POV:

“JARVIS, blinds…” I mutter, knowing I had a killer hangover, and as a genius, playboy, billionaire, philanthropist, I practically has wrote the textbook on Migraines of Epic Proportions.

It took me way too long to realize JARVIS hadn’t responded, and I crack an eyelid open, immediately regretting it when 

A. I realized this wasn’t a hangover  
B. JARVIS definitely wasn’t going to respond.  
C. I realized I wasn’t home  
D. I wasn’t even in New York, judging by the large courtyard overlooking a rose garden and beyond that, a woods stretching as far as I could see.  
E. And most importantly, I was chained to a bed, and thus, definitely not there of my own free will.

I was in a brightly lit room, painted white, with stone floors that were smoothed over time and polished until they shone, vaulted ceilings with paintings and sculptures adorning the room, plants meticulously shaped… everything was expensive, and belonged to a man who cared about both tradition and appearances… even if the truth inside was ugly.

I immediately begin testing the bindings… strange. It was like I was in a box. I just had enough room to lay there… there was about a foot around me, every way, and whatever was holding me must have an illusion of being air or my body or something, because I couldn’t see it… that didn’t explain why I couldn’t feel it-

“You’ve made quite the recovery, Anthony Stark.” A voice that could freeze molten lava, I swear, it’s that cold said. I vaguely recognized it from… somewhere. I turn my head, and I can’t help but gasp…

It... the person? Creature was disgusting. It had a somewhat humanoid appearance (meaning it walked on two legs and resembled a skeleton that walked) with eyes the color of congealed blood, scales the color of bleached bone, a hooded neck, slits like a snake for a nose, a forked tongue that tasted the air as he spoke, a lipless mouth with black fangs, a gaunt body, hands like spiders, yellow fingernails, and no hair as far as I could tell… 

“I disfigured myself in pursuit of something greater than mere looks.” The man says, and I scramble to figure out how he knew what I was thinking, and more importantly, what the hell he meant. How could disfiguring yourself lead to anything? “Immortality, Mr. Stark. But I digress. You were mangled almost irreparably by an explosion.”

Memories begin flooding back.

-A flash of light so powerful it blinded me for five minutes-  
-The tower’s upper floors being smashed in-  
-Reports of exits being sealed off-  
-People jumping from every floor-  
-The roof collapsing, raining metal and glass on everyone  
-Corpses littering the pavement-  
-An impossible heat-  
-Flames flickering-  
-the smell of burning flesh  
-A blast of wind so strong that I was picked up like a rag doll and shot through a window  
-Agony, pain like I never knew-  
-Sharp pains hitting close to my heart-  
-A falling sensation, vertigo, dizziness-

I quickly move my limbs, trying to test if I sustained any long term injury. Then reality hits me… my tower was gone, Stark Industries was attacked… my workers were dead… God, what about Pepper? 

So many dead, and I had no idea what the extent of the damage was on New York, or America… in that moment, I felt sick, ashamed that my first thoughts were myself, even when told the truth about the horrors of my situation.

“Luckily we had a Healer standing by. Draco is our miracle worker… shards of your tower’s glass and metal structure hit your chest, and Draco had to create a contraption that keeps shards from hitting your heart. it should power you for thousands of years, if you’d live that long. I’m afraid if you don’t cooperate, things are going to be quite difficult for you, and you won’t make it more than a few days-“ The… creature continues, voice becoming dangerous at the end.

“What do you want? Money? No one’s going to pay for my dead body, and you’ll be saddled with the funeral expenses-“ I try to reason, my voice coming out in a rasp, but I'm thankful for even that.

“Weapons, Mr. Stark.” The monster replies easily. “You are the most brilliant inventor of your century, so it shouldn’t be too hard for you to come up with something.”

“Who are you targeting?” I ask, wanting to know the situation before I got myself involved in a conflict. I couldn’t place the accent… too much hissing.

“No one that matters. Quit pretending you care, Stark. How many thousands have you killed? Perhaps in the hundreds of thousands?” The thing tells me. “And it’s quite rude to call someone a monster… perhaps you could gain some much needed perspective when you get some time alone to look in the mirror.”

“It’s quite rude to chain people up.” I shoot back, not letting it believe I had been hurt.

“Quite true, but you haven’t proven yourself to matter, so I don’t consider you to be even close to human. Therefore, you are not a person, and can be kept as a slave, or pet if you’re good.” He tells me. “You will pay for what you’ve called me after you recover.”

“And if I refuse treatment?” I ask.

“You say that as if you have a choice.” The thing smirks at me, then leaves me to struggle at my bonds.  
…  
A month earlier:  
Fenrir’s POV:

I stood, just outside the castle headquarters, frozen in shock and horror when I saw the body of the man Pettigrew was supposed to capture… it took a few seconds to register his shallow, uneven breathing and the slow beat of his heart. Too slow...

“What, in the Norn’s names, have you done, you disgusting smear of bilgesnipe shit!” My voice was a vicious hiss as I gripped Pettigrew’s throat, holding him high and smashing him into the wall of the castle behind him. Pettigrew squeals like the little rat he is, and I laugh mockingly, then apply more pressure. He begins choking, turning red, then purple…

“Fenrir, let him go. As much as I’d love to see you kill the inept coward, someone needs to do basic chores and I’d rather not get roped into doing them.” Draco Malfoy told me, and I let the rat go. Pettigrew crumples to the ground.

Draco was kneeling in the grass by the inventor. Judging by the time the wards were set up, the feel of light magic in the air and how powerful it was, Draco had been healing the man for nearly an hour… he was in horrible shape still, bloody, limbs broken but still attached (small miracles there) even though Draco knew more about healing than most of England’s experts. Draco had trained under Severus and his mother, both who were healers during the war and had seen it all… this was bad.

“I gave the filth a lesson-“ Pettigrew whimpered, though, and I sneer in disgust.

“You disobeyed orders, and if he ends up dead, I will let Sirius do whatever, and I mean whatever, he wants to you.” Draco threatens.

“What does it matter?” Pettigrew asks resentfully. “He won’t agree to create weapons for us, and it’s not like his technology is better than our magic!”

“Combined, it will be unstoppable. He also is the richest man in the world and owns a business that can supply our new world for centuries. We can get rid of the Muggle infestation permanently with his aid. And he won’t be able to resist any spells that help me gain his trust.” Draco explains very slowly, as though speaking with a child, and I’m the only one here who knows Draco doesn’t mean what he says. The rest of the group nods along. Throughout the entire time, he kept administering salves to Starks exterior wounds… so the interior wounds were pretty much taken care of.

“Is there anything we can help with?” I ask Draco. 

“Pettigrew can get us food and drink, and fetch us the correct potions. Fenrir, we need to find palladium. I can create a block around it to stop the poisoning… but he needs a replacement for the equipment I hooked to his chest to stop the shrapnel from hitting his heart, and I have to focus on keeping him alive. All of the rest of you, stay quiet, and obey my orders, or we’re all dead.” Draco commands, and I grin at him.

“So… got a gold card?” I ask, and Draco hands it over after giving me permission officially to use it  
.  
“After you finish this, I swear I’ll treat you and your entire pack to a steak dinner.” Draco tells me, handing me a sheet of what I’d need to buy and how much of each we needed.

It took only thirty minutes to find the location of a palladium manufacturer in South Africa, and I came back with everything on the list only forty-five minutes after I left. Stark wasn’t the bloodied and broken mess I had seen before… instead he looked human, and handsome at that. Draco had cleaned him off, and when I got the equipment to him, he lets out a relieved sigh  
.  
“Good. Thank you.” He says, and assembles the components until they formed a glowing orb, lighting the now-night sky up with a powerful blue. 

He uses a severe numbing spell on Stark and he falls deeper unconscious. Draco takes a deep breath, then lifts Stark’s shirt and places the orb on his chest, right above the heart. He begins to chant, and I watch as the orb burrows itself into his skin, resisting the urge to shudder or vomit… it looked painful, disgusting, and barbaric. Draco constantly heals and reworks the blood vessels, the muscles, and flesh to make sure he doesn’t hit anything vital and not heal it, until it’s close enough to the heart to work. He vanishes the other equipment with a satisfied smile.

“Fenrir, mind bringing him to the healing chambers? He’ll need rest.” Draco tells me, and Pettigrew glares.

“Treating a Muggle like an equal?” Pettigrew sneers. “I thought you were on our side.”

“I’m not the one who tried killing our hope to finish the war quickly, imbecile. He needs to recover in order to serve us best.” Draco retorts. “The faster he heals, the quicker he does the job, and the sooner we can be rid of him.”

I lift Stark and walk to the castle, keeping my pace relaxed and even not to jostle Stark, who would be sorer than a mortal going against Thor in a battle of physical strength, where Voldemort waits.

“I’m sorry, my lord, but he’s still in a coma, and it might be best to have him close to healers and supplies so he comes out of it. Pettigrew attacked him with his own weapons, and Draco put him back together.” I force myself to submit to this monster in man’s clothing, though I absolutely despised it.

Voldemort stalks to Pettigrew without a word to me, and the rat’s screams pierce the air. I stop for a moment to enjoy the rat’s agony, until I remember that Stark needed even more care. 

The healing room was closest to the entrance, large, and covered in windows overlooking a large garden that seemed to have a healing effect on people. light shone in brightly when the sun was out, enough that Draco only lit the room at night and even then, softly. There were beds with enough space for two people to walk side by side between them, covered in warm sheets now that winter was close, and I set Stark on one of them, then tucked him in. I keep guard over him.

“Thank you.” Draco says when he reaches the room two hours later, covered in dirt from the greenhouses, where he helped with potions supplies for the headquarters.

He doesn’t head to the bathroom right away to wash up, as he had for years. Instead, he makes sure everything is working in the Healing room, then counts the supplies, marking down what was needed. His shower lasts ten minutes, a record low, then he’s changed into his Healing robes, and he tends to all Death Eaters before reaching Stark. He uses a chaining spell on the other man, then a monitoring spell for changes in his conditions.

“I’ll guard now, if you want.” Draco suggests… he never demanded, not like the rest tried and failed. He was like Faðir that way… he knew how to get what he wanted from people with ease.

“No. Get some rest. I can stand more hours than you, little prince, and you look like you sorely need it. And I’m sure your little girls have been waiting up for you.” I’m firm, knowing he’s had a long day and needed all the sleep he could for tomorrow, when work would pick up, but my voice carries no threat. Every Death Eater knew the rumors about me biting children was simply that… rumors, nothing more.

His lips quirk up in what passes for a smile nowadays.


End file.
